Where Loyalties Lie
by princesshyuuga01
Summary: They were at war. She was one brother's weapon and the other's shield. [ItaTenSasu] At the end of the day her loyalties lie with one, but during the night...her body lies with the other.
1. The Mission

**"If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."**

— **James Herriot**

Tenten wiped her hands over her face wearily and stared back at the photographs scattered on the table between them. They seem to glare up at her in black and white.

Eyes the colour of raven wings stared out from the photo paper with great darkness resembling cold, autumn nights and starless skies where life seemed galaxies away. They seemed to match the way his scowl suggested he felt towards the world; cold and dark. And yet she found herself looking into the abyss until it looked back.

She wanted to take her eyes off him but the flair that was happening in the pit of her stomach was stopping her from looking away. He looked so bone-shiveringly—breathtakingly devastating and perfect.

Itachi shot her a wry smile. "Drink in the sight of him while he is still whole—"

Tenten sipped her wine to hide her own smile. Curt, cut and dry as always, she mused. "Why is that?"

"—because the next time you see him, I want his head to come off in your hands." He couldn't help the growl in his response or the command in his voice.

Anxiety and intrigue mingled with the thrill of a potential kill in Tenten's gut. "Who is he?"

He held her gaze with his cool black eyes. "He's your next assignment," Itachi paused, as if contemplating whether to say more or not. He decided against the latter. "And my younger brother."

Had she not been practiced enough, shock might've had her spitting wine all over their lavish dinner, but Tenten swallowed tightly. Itachi was used to her maintaining a cool detachment to her targets, after all.

When she had made her first kill at age seventeen he savagely told her to never think of her victims and that if she absolutely had to she ought to think of them as being already dead—walking meat bags waiting to be despatched to the butcher.

His ruthlessness shocked her at first because she had only ever been exposed to the soft and compassionate side of Itachi. The side that rescued her. Rescued her from the life which had awaited her the moment she came off the boat and set foot on Amegakure's soil.

Amegakure was a significant destination and transit country for persons trafficked for labour and sexual exploitation from regional and neighbouring cities in the Fire Country. Its government is said to have made efforts to combat trafficking but has also been criticized for not complying with the minimum standards for eliminating it. Popular belief had it that it was the city's main source of income. A large and increasing number of women from different cities, Suna, Kiri, Konoha and Iwa til date still work as prostitutes in Amegakure.

When she was younger Tenten had heard tales of trafficking of children and of child sex tourism in the city but had never believed it. Had never believed her own government would contribute to the popularity of the practice by selling it's own into such sexual servitude. Unknown to most, Konohagakure was the main source of sex workers and earned top dollars from their sale.

Orphans like her, the homeless and other beneficiaries of the state were thought to absorb a lot of the taxes. Taxes that could've otherwise been used to further develop the city, it was argued. To counter this the government of Konoha decided to turn them into revenue earners rather than have them "leech off the system". And so, Tenten along with a boat load of young girls who weren't important to anyone, were sold.

Amegakure was not the paradise they had been assured it would be. Fortunately or unfortunately for Tenten, when the boat docked at the coast of a small industrial town, they walked in on an altercation between Amegakure's most feared asset—the Akatsuki—and Otogakure, the city's biggest competitors in the trafficking business. Apparently Orochimaru had heard of the "new stock" that was coming in and wanted to intercept.

That night amounted to mass murder. The Akatsuki might've come out of battle with fewer casualties but aside from Tenten, the "merchandise" was lost. If there had been a victor, it would've been Karma.

The stench of blood had filled the air. Throats had been cut and bodies laid like butchered animals in a waste of blood. Some had bullet holes puncturing their skulls, others had heads that were almost cleft from the bodies with great mats of blood spreading like bibs across their chests.

It had been a nightmare.

But Itachi had been there with her, for her.

She was only twelve. He had been the Akatsuki's newest recruit and perhaps not as seasoned into the callousness. His partner Kisame, a giant of a man, had suggested that they killed her and reported the "batch" to have been defective (plagued by disease) because he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Leader-sama that they had failed him.

Coming to think of it, Itachi had mentioned something about having a kid brother that night, Tenten reflected. He had, right before he took her small hands in his own and disgustedly declared that Konoha was corrupt and needed to be wiped out of existence.

It was hypocritical if you asked her, considering Itachi's loyalties lay with the very people Konoha sold it's girls to. He might've been just as, if not, a little more naive than her if he thought most women sold sex by choice.

Still, it had been nice to have someone sympathize with her for once.

That night she pledged an allegiance to the Akatsuki—or at least, an allegiance to their cause. That was to see both Konoha and Oto go up in flames.

It took their leader a while to the warm up to the idea of having a kid—who was meant to be inventory—hanging around. But when he did, he took a strange liking to her. In fact, she had found more comfort in Pein's prep talk about the first kill than in Itachi's.

He said she was to think of each victim as meeting their destiny and herself as merely the conduit. Everyone had to die sometime, he told her, and she should consider it a good way to go. No illness, no drawn-out goodbyes. They were just happy and oblivious one second and gone the next.

Simple.

Convenient.

Painless.

But this kill would be different.

"Your brother?" Tenten repeated stupidly.

Staring back at her was a man who seemed to burn holes in her.

For several seconds, Itachi's intense animal quality held her quite still. It was the eyes that mesmerized her, glowering out black and full of malevolence from under lowered brows. They captured her, drew her to him as surely as if she were being tugged on a rope like a slave.

She tapped on the picture.

"He's quite a looker. What has he done to you? Steal your girlfriend?" Tenten hazarded, seeing the possibility instantly but felt quite unreasonably disturbed.

How infuriating. Her self-respect, her female pride was ruffled. What was the need to acknowledge his good looks? Of course he would be good looking, he's Itachi's kid brother she reasoned to herself.

"He's not your type, so—no." Itachi sounded strangely amused.

Her heart fluttered though she knew he was only teasing.

"If he isn't my type I don't see why you would be―" she said wryly, gawking at him without having conjured the will to do so.

Wide shoulders. An expensively toned torso beneath that expensively tailored black suit. Dark as the devil. And faint lines slashed into an inch or so beneath his eyes, lending him a disquieteningly exciting air of wickedness.

Entirely against her will, she found herself looking at the photograph again. Two-dimensional or not, his brother looked ready to leap out from the glossy paper at any moment and tear her apart for merely looking at him. Fierceness it would seem, was not lost on the young Uchiha.

"―you two could pass for twins born years apart."

Itachi leaned forward, sliding another brown folder towards her. "You leave tomorrow."

"So soon?" Tenten blinked up at him for a second in confusion. A lick of thick, dark brown hair glossed over the delicate fingers on which she'd propped her forehead as she concentrated on the folder in front of her, "Without any prep at all?"

"I was getting to that," he rose to his feet. "Follow me and bring the wine."

Frowning at his brusque command, Tenten obeyed. She kept pace, trying not to spill their drinks, as he took the polished stairs two at a time. "Where are we going?"

He ignored her and strode along the hallway, boot heels tapping on the wooden flooring, until he was pushing a door open with his hip.

"Your room?" Tenten caught her lip between her teeth and felt the blush of heat all over her body.

How much had she drank?

She lived with Itachi for ten years and he had never hinted such inclinations towards her—thought for most of that time she was a minor—so it was ridiculous for her to be harbouring thoughts of this nature.

Once it was open, she simply stood and looked around. His room was very different from the one he had given to her when he took her under his tutelage.

It was simple and uncluttered. He hung no paintings here, not even his own. Her curious gaze found white walls and dark wood trim and on the ceiling a plaster rose from which descended a lovely blown-glass chandelier. The carpet was old but good, its colours so dark she could barely make out a pattern.

The light from the hall sconce lit the nearer objects of the room. Her eyes went to his huge bed, one corner of which stood out from the shadows. She could tell its origin from the pattern of squares and circles that formed the frame. No hangings draped it. Instead, six slim posts supported an elegant wooden roof. The structure resembled an open cage, as if Itachi were a circus animal no one thought was very dangerous.

That, of course, was patently untrue.

Her body tightened, the further into the room she got. The bed suddenly seem to loom as big as a cricket ground, the posts like spears, the quilt a stark white field of snow. For one bizarre moment she pictured herself lying across it, impaled like a dying soldier, and shuddered involuntary.

"This mission is personal," he took the glasses from her hand and set them on the dresser. "It requires a different kind prep."

His words, rasped low, shivered through her.

"You're to become my brother's mistress for one week."

Suddenly she felt as if the walls of the room had moved in closer, crushing out some of the oxygen in the air. Her mouth fell open, surprised, and wordless.

He took a step toward her and touched the bare skin of her upper arms with his palms. Heat gathered in her chest as he slid his forearms around her back, encasing her—trapping her—in his embrace. "I don't suppose you'd want Sasori to prep you for something of this nature."

The shocking idea of being anyone's mistress—even for a single minute—should make her run screaming. But she didn't feel like struggling. It was after all Itachi. She had complete and total trust in him. Any mission undertaken by him or proposed by him was always in the interest of the greater good.

Who was she to question why he wanted his brother out of the way?

His face hovered inches from hers, his spicy male smell a sweet torment. She watched his mouth, serious and sensual at the same time. He studied her, those appraising black eyes taking in every feature of her face with rapt concentration.

Then, very slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.

Her mouth hummed with anticipation as he grew closer. For an instant he hovered there, an infinitesimal distance between them, as excitement gathered like a storm.

His tongue flicked once over her mouth, sparking a flash of longing. Too experienced, warm, with a hint of pure male determination, his lips covered hers and immediately set fire to her senses.

Pineapple glazed ham and red wine.

He tasted like pineapple glazed ham and red wine.

His free hand cupped the side of her face and his thumb pressed at the tip of her chin, parting her lips further as his settled deeper into the kiss.

Tenten gasped. Outside her imagination she had never been kissed before.

Itachi's lips plundered hers erotically. They licked over the plumped curves as his kiss assured her that he knew exactly what he was doing. And he knew exactly how to make it so damned good that she had no choice but to enjoy it.

And she was definitely enjoying it. Her whole body was enjoying it. She was too bemused to think of anything but him, anything but the searing heat of his mouth.

Then she was in his arms and against the urgent demands of his body, all to aware of the violent reaction he was having towards her that he wasn't even trying to disguise. Not that he could, she thought unsteadily, imagining how hot and heavy he'd feel pressing her into the mattress. How hot and heavy and hard he would feel sliding into her.

She opened her legs almost instinctively and pressed her body against his. Her breasts stirred at the pleasure of being crushed against him. His palms swept over her until every inch of her skin was alive and tingling.

When their lips finally parted she gasped for air.

"At the end of that one week I want you to kill him," His eyes took on a wicked gleam.

Tenten bit her lip—shivering. It wasn't the assassination part of the mission that she had a problem with. Killing was second nature to her. "His mi-mistress?" she asked belatedly, almost too soft to hear. "I'm not very experienced in that regard."

She was a killer, not a seductress.

Itachi rubbed her from wrist to shoulder, reveling in the soft perfection of her skin. "Ah, Tenten," His thumb moved sensuously against the fine bones that defined her throat. "The only experience you'll need is the kind we'll make together."

There's nothing to fear, she assured herself. She had wanted this since she was sixteen—wanted Itachi. Who better to reveal the secrets that were hidden behind closed doors? Besides, if Hidan's exasperated tales were reliable, she had nothing to worry about. She had climbed too many trees and ridden too many horses astride to be left with anything more than a virgin's ignorance.

 _Inexperience,_ she corrected with a firm, outward breath. True ignorance hadn't been an issue since she was twelve and sold to become a sex slave.

A few discarded garments later she was clutching Itachi so closely he had to lower them both to the mattress together. He pressed her down beneath him, knowing he might be heavy but unable to resist. Her smallness drove him wild, but her strength made him fearless. He felt as if he could crush her, ravish her, and she would only moan for more. Because he had trained her that way—to never deny him anything.

When her release came it ripped through her like a vicious storm, shaking her from her head to her toes, pouring through her senses with a downpour of rapture that rained through her entire body.

Tenten could feel herself opening, a part of herself she hadn't known existed fractured inside her soul. As though some inner wall were all but falling to rubble as the heat enveloping her seemed to pour from him, into her, then back again. It had been like an expanding of sensitivity, and ultimately a satisfaction so intense, she'd cried for the beauty of the experience and knowledge.

Experience and knowledge she would use to destroy his brother...

* * *

 **A/N: I'm posting this story to commence 2016's Tenten Week. Its a short story with four parts, each of which will be posted every Sunday until the 27th of March. This fic is not for the faint hearted...just saying ;) Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated. I'll love you forever.**


	2. The Hunt

_Dedicated to SilentMidnight02 for a beautiful start to my March 9th :)_

OoOo

 **"The mysteries of attraction cannot always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls become the very hinges that holds them together."**

— **Lisa Kleypas**

Tenten sat back, champagne glass in hand, and surveyed the crowded ballroom. She glimpsed Orochimaru across the room, immersed in talks with several high-level corporate shareholders that the Akatsuki had investigated in the past. Being an assassin had many perks—a new city every week, five star hotels, new wardrobe every day and access to intel on all the important political and social figures.

Uchiha Sasuke however, she had never heard of.

During her flight to Otogakure, and her entrance into the secured glittering beauty of his mansion, Tenten couldn't help but wonder how someone like Sasuke managed to stay off the Akatsuki's radar for so long. Or was it just her who hadn't been aware of his steady rise to the top of Corporate Fire Country?

Apparently the younger Uchiha was sitting on some serious cash, the majority of which belonged to his brother. But Itachi wasn't after the money, Tenten knew that. The Akatsuki ensured its members lived in the lap of luxury.

Uchiha Corp—their family's heirloom from the way Itachi had described its significance—was allegedly providing Orochimaru and his cronies with funding to purchase military and nuclear weapons. Weapons that would be used to wage war against Amegakure. The fact that Itachi's city of residence could potentially be under threat aside, he could not allow Sasuke to tarnish their family's legacy and reputation through association with a man like Orochimaru.

Again with the hypocrisy, Tenten thought. Wasn't Itachi's affiliation with the Akatsuki doing the very same thing? It wasn't important, she dismissed quickly. Itachi did his biddings under the quiet. Sasuke was a riot. It was different.

She watched as Orochimaru moved amongst the crowd, his amber eyes watching everything, the white-haired lawyer he was rumoured to be involved with, at his side. His personal security force filled the mansion all decked out in cream shirts and black trousers and tissue-thin black leather jackets, like normal guests. But Tenten had caught a few faces that were on the Akatsuki's hit-list circulating through the large ballroom and buffet.

Faces like those of Guren and Kimimaro.

She smoothed back imaginary loose brown tresses, checking that her hair-pin vile of poison was still in place. If she ever came across the woman in the shadows, Guren was as good as dead. No questions asked.

She was looking an absolute vision tonight, Tenten bad to admit—dressed in billowing silver silk. Her hair was up in a dramatically simple style that showed off the slender length of her neck. A neck the brunette would very much like to get her hands around or at least snap in half.

Guren's hair, the colour of it took Tenten back to her first kill.

The Hyuuga heiress.

She remembered it as if it had been yesterday.

Konoha's Annual Ball.

Hinata had stepped out from the black limousine, her curly indigo locks falling in soft layers around bare shoulders, ironically dressed in silver as well.

She had had the right physique and the right hair, but Tenten had to wait for her to turn around to get a positive I.D. on the face. The photograph Konan had given her hadn't done the Hyuuga much justice, either way the brief had been to eliminate her.

In Tenten's magnified scopes her pearly eyes had shone and there was a genuine look of concern on her symmetrical features rather than the glee of a gawker when Deidara—the Akatsuki's computer tech—set off the alarms of all vehicles within a mile's radius. Everyone turned towards the traffic, including Hinata.

There had been no need for a silencer, the noise was lost in the droning of the traffic below Tenten's position, and most likely had been mistakened for a back-firing van in all the chaos and uproar. She took aim with no more qualms than one would about doing something routine, then squeezed the trigger.

Hinata fell without a cry, never aware of her own end. One minute she was expecting a glittering gala and the next she was gone, dispatched.

Itachi had never been more proud of her.

Tenten was pulled out of memory lane by the spark of something at Guren's ears and her throat as the woman made her way across the room. They looked expensive.

Almost as valuable as her corpse would be, Tenten thought, running her finger back and forth through a drop of condensation that had slithered from her glass of water. The place was crawling with potential hits. It was an absolute torture—like being starved and placed before a buffet you weren't permitted to indulge in.

The ballroom was comfortably furnished in muted creams, bold splashed of colour provided by the modern paintings adorning the walls. Niches set into the walls revealed exquisite pieces of pottery which Tenten vaguely recognized as Konohan, their colours picked out by those of the tiles, and although no one told her so, she guessed the pottery was antique and extremely valuable.

Obviously no expense had been spared with the décor.

As she sat there, plenty eyes slid over her in silent appraisal or male appreciation. It was all thanks to Itachi and the transformation he gave her. He spent an insane amount of money on the two-piece blue gown she wore and on the trips she had taken to the hairdresser and beauty parlour.

Thread a fucking tiara through her hair and she was a princess. She couldn't even recognize herself, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Her hair had been pulled back from her face; every strand was firmly secured into an elegant knot at her nape. She found that the severe style suited her, revealing her smooth forehead and high cheekbones to perfection that her makeup accentuated. A small silver ring pierced the top of her right ear, her only jewelry. The stunning two-piece blue dress she wore featured a crystal embellished bodice and form fitting jersey skirt that clung to her hips and flared out at the end.

Blue was Sasuke's colour of preference. It would do her well to get him to take notice of her, Itachi advised.

With that in mind she had altered the seating plan posted in the cocktail reception area for the dinner, so that she would be sitting next to him. But though she'd managed to take her seat without anyone else challenging her, the seat next to her with Sasuke's nameplate, remained empty.

Tenten drew in a steadying breath as she unfolded her napkin. The pounding beat of the music jangled her nerves. She couldn't believe she had agreed to share Itachi's younger brother's bed for an entire week. Why didn't he want Sasuke dead immediately? And why had he wanted her of all people to be the one to undertake this mission? After all, she wasn't known to fuck on the first night. She killed on it instead.

A waiter dressed in white approached the table, deftly placing a starter course in front of each guest. Tenten almost drooled. Her stomach however, felt too jumpy—too tender—for her to chance indulging.

Grilled trout with lemon and mounds of fragrant wild rice, potatoes and diced pumpkin smeared with butter and spices.

Some starter dish it was, she mused.

"What kind of cuisine is this?" Tenten asked as a taller figure, in a black jacket, not white, suddenly materialized. He stood there momentarily. Then he was taking his seat—right beside her.

"Forgive the delay. I had to have security escort an uninvited guest off the property. Some hags simply do not have any self-respect," he growled and the rest of the table erupted with laughter as if they all shared some private joke.

"My lawyer would be more than willing to take care of her for you," Orochimaru's softly spoken offer seemed to slither from the far end of the table. "Just say the word."

If she was a lesser woman, Tenten probably would've shuddered at what she knew 'taking care of' the woman entailed. But as an assassin those words meant another day in the office. Except her office was either a dark alley, shadowy pub or a windy roof-top overlooking her target's downtown apartment. Her tools, rather than a computer, was probably a state-of-the-art rifle with telescopic lens.

"She honestly isn't worth the effort —" Sasuke waved off dismissively, "—or the bullet," he muttered beneath his breath before turning to acknowledge several of his guests by name then he turned to her. "Uchiha Sasuke," he said holding out his hand.

But Tenten wasn't capable of responding. She was simply staring.

Having seen him in the living flesh, this man could actually give Itachi a run for his money. He was absolutely breathtaking.

The word thudded in her brain, which later seem to send a message to her lungs to stall the flow of air.

He was the younger version of his brother, surely with a whipcord leanness to him that was accentuated by the superb cut of his tuxedo. Just as his pale face, his black hair, were accentuated by the dark colour of his suit.

She gaped helplessly.

The planed contours of his face, the high, strong cheekbones, the straight nose, smoothly defined jawline. And his mouth. Good God.

Sensually sculpted.

Her brown gaze travelled the distance to his eyes and fell straight into his.

Black—abyss—but flecked very deep within with gold.

And looking at her—looking at her with total, absolute focus.

She truly felt breathless.

Something flickered in his eyes. "I don't believe we've met before, Miss…?"

His voice was deep, making her toes curl in her stilettos. There was faint speculation in the voice. She could hear it, and it quivered through her.

"Tenten," she breathed helplessly, her eyes still speared by his. Numbly she placed her hand into his waiting one. "Just. Tenten."

The pressure of his grip was firm, but as he slid his hand away there seemed to her to be the slightest, the very slightest, reluctance to do so.

Her insides were simply whipping around like fruits in a blender.

"Taken with the pretty lady, Sasuke-kun?" Orochimaru's taunt slipped between them.

For one last, brief moment black held brown—eyes like onyx held eyes like sinhalite, and then they drew away—like the friction of gem against gem.

Her heart seemed to be pounding in her chest, thumping against her ribcage.

This was Itachi's kid brother.

Her target.

Uchiha Sasuke.

And she would have to sleep with him for an entire week when all she wanted to do was stare at him forever.

He was beautiful.

Tenten had to force herself to eat. Fortunately no one had made any attempt to include her in the discussion at the table. She hadn't the faintest idea what they were all so engrossed in talking about, despite being very proficient with the corporate lingo.

She was fluent in twelve languages, not counting sarcasm, money and business. The Akatsuki taught her well. Charisma and a pistol was a killer's two best friends.

All she wanted to do—all she was capable of doing—was to go on gazing at the man she would have to seduce and kill.

She had never, ever set eyes on anyone quite as breathtakingly beautiful.

Except perhaps Itachi. He was the epitome of ruthlessly good-looking, demonically sexy. But Sasuke's softer features made him quite something else.

Tenten swallowed, wishing he wasn't so close…or that his nearness did not impact her so much. She needed to get it together. Her only task was to persuade him into her bed and make it memorable enough for him to request her company again. But that wasn't something she could bring up in the middle of a formal business dinner.

She anticipated that she would've had to use dinner as an opportunity to request a private word with him when it was all over, and then go in for the kill.

In which case—she reached for the champagne flute—there wasn't any harm in going on gazing at him, while he talked to his business associates, was here?

"Allow me—"

Sasuke stopped in the middle of his conversation and helped himself to the bottle of white wine left in its chiller by the waiter. Then he filled Tenten's glass.

"Thank you," she said, her voice wobbling only a little.

"You're welcome," he said. His long-lashed, black eyes swept over her and Tenten's stomach plummeted all over again. "Tenten," his deep voice murmured, as if browsing through files of memory inside his head or committing the name to memory.

His eyes were still on her, and suddenly she felt liquid warmth washing over her. With every inch of her consciousness she became aware of herself.

"Do you know me?" she made a visible effort to swallow.

"Not yet," he murmured in response, his eyes crept over her again. His voice was dropped down to a low, husky tone that made her stomach flutter.

For a moment time seemed to stop—as cliché as that shit sounded. She just sat there and let herself be looked over. Something flowed inside her. Something so powerful and overwhelming that her breath was ripped from her.

She looked back.

Deep, deep into his eyes.

The meal seemed to take forever—and yet no time at all. He talked to her sometimes, as the conversation meandered, but whenever he did she found herself almost completely tongue-tied.

At the end of the formal proceedings, conversations struck up again across the banqueting hall. Orochimaru flashed her a suspicious look from across the room and she bowed her head in feigned respect.

Tenten felt the pincers go to work in her stomach again at the recognition that seem to flash in his eyes before he disappeared.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. There was not a soul alive who knew of her affiliation with the Akatsuki besides the Akatsuki themselves. She made certain of it. None of her victims ever survived.

And Sasuke would have to face the same fate.

Their table was breaking up. People were getting to their feet, taking their leave, either to leave the dinner completely or to mingle with guests at other tables.

She decided that wouldn't let Sasuke leave.

She would keep him there.

She had to do something.

But what?

Then, just as she felt sick apprehension pool in her stomach, he spoke. "Your glass is empty," he told her.

Her head turned. Her eyes were already glowing from the amount of wine she had consumed during her meal making her smile more ready than usual.

Sasuke reached out to the decanter. She wordlessly watched him fill both their glasses.

She picked up her glass, taking several nerve-bolstering sips of the wine.

He leant back in his chair. The gesture made the fine material of his dress shirt tauten across his chest, broadening his shoulders.

Her nerves were all over the place.

Any minute now he could glance at his watch, and murmur politely that he must go, or someone from another table could come up and start talking to him, cutting her out.

She had to act now. But how exactly did a woman approach a man? Aside from revealing the secrets of what happened between the opposite sex behind closed doors, Itachi had only advised her on the scents and colours to wear. That was as far as showing her the ropes went and Tenten had a feeling she was hanging herself with the small length of it that she got.

"Mr. Uchiha—" Her voice came out high pitched but she forced herself to go on. It felt weird using Itachi's surname like this. "Mr. Uchiha, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

Something changed about him. She didn't know what. But there was a sudden, instant edge of tension. She heaved a sigh, her gaze fluttering nervously away from his, "In—in private?" she added, her voice breathy.

For a moment his eyes were veiled, unreadable.

She mentally crossed her fingers, praying to the heavens that he didn't say no.

Then, slowly, he set his glass down.

"I don't see why that should be a problem," he replied. His eyes seemed to flicker over her, brushing like a very fine breath. He got to his feet. "I'm sure, we can find some place private," he said, looking down at her.

His voice was smooth, but it was like the smoothness of a sea where deep currents lurked beneath.

The breath she took felt like a pebble had fallen into her lungs.

Tenten gave a hesitant smile and stood up. He was tall, she realized, pausing to stoop and pick up her handbag. Then, with her heart beating like a drum, she let him usher her from the banqueting hall.

She didn't miss the crooked smirk Orochimaru's lawyer sent them as he straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose when they separated from the rest of the party.

As Sasuke steered her out, Tenten paused and turned. Her stomach was churning again, and she fought to subdue her nerves. Yet at the same time relief was surging through her.

She had done it.

She was getting him alone.

Damn it, if only Itachi had wanted him dead on the spot, Tenten pouted. Killer instincts laying to rest.

"Thank you for agreeing to—"

"This way," he cut across her careful speech with a murmur and ushered her upstairs.

She smirked.

He pushed open a door and they were in a pleasant square hall tiled for coolness, the richness of their design offset by the stark white walls and modern lighting. Then he stopped in front of another door. And the room door that he opened was the master bedroom.

For a second Tenten hesitated. Then she crushed the feeling down. If the target was inviting her into his bedroom, why should she object? Her mission was practically completing itself.

* * *

 **A/N: Here's an early update because I won't be around for the weekend. Apologies!**

 **If you're a long time follower of mine this chapter might've reminded you of something in a SasuTen fic I had posted and deleted last year January. I don't think people would've been able to handle the amount of fucked up shit in it, so I had scrapped the story. But alas, I have resurrected tiny bits of it and tossed the King (Itachi) into the mix.**

 **I totally fangirled over your responses to this mess :P It surprised me that people were actually interested. Thank you so much for the support. Your enthusiasm feeds my own. Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated ;) I will love you forever.**


	3. One Step Ahead

_**Reader's Discretion is Advised.**_ _Mature Content and Twisted Thoughts/Musings. Consider yourself thoroughly warned._

 _OoOo_

 **"A trap is only a trap if you don't know about it. If you know about it, it's a challenge."**

— **China Miéville**

"After you," Sasuke said with a polite nod, holding the door open for her.

Stepping past him, Tenten went straight into the room. It was dark. The still air was heavy with the fragrance of patchouli. She halted, afraid of blindly stumbling into any furniture. He strode straight past her and, one by one, opened all the pairs of tall shutters at the far side of the room.

Watery moonlight streamed in and, despite all the other wonders she had seen on her travels with Itachi, Tenten gasped. For a few seconds, all she could do was walk around in a small circle, gazing at the high, graceful beauty of the bedroom.

"Your house is impressive," she breathed, lost in wonder. The entire ceiling was decorated with exquisitely painted gods and goddesses billowing across blue and silver clouds. Every surface was transformed into heaven.

Like my name, Tenten thought idly.

All the carpeting were in shades of blue and silver as well. His favourite colour and hers—well, she liked silver bullets.

The softly upholstered chairs picked up these colours and everything was reflected in the highly polished sheen of ancient oak furniture. At the very heart of the room stood an enormous bed draped in cobalt. It was all very breathtaking, like the man himself.

While he and Itachi's taste obviously differed, they both seemed to share a similar fondness of posh decor. It must be their upbringing, she reasoned. At one point the Uchihas had been one of Konohagakure's wealthiest families. That was, until they were all butchered one night. She didn't know the details, just that Sasuke was deemed the _lone_ survivor.

But what about Itachi? Surely the whole Fire Country knew that he was alive. So why was Sasuke still being referred to as _the lone survivor from the massacre_? Was Itachi's life not taken into account as well? It baffled her.

Tenten heard a popping sound and turned to see Sasuke pouring champagne. He filled up two flutes from the sideboard and strolled towards her.

There was something very controlled about the way he was walking towards her. For a second she thought of a wildlife film, with a panther approaching the camera. It got closer, and closer—and then the footage cut out, as though the cameraman had retreated in panic.

But Tenten need not retreat. It wasn't the Uchiha who was the hunter here. It was her.

He lifted his glass when she accepted hers. "Cheers."

His voice was bland, but his eyes—she felt her throat tighten—were watching her with an expression that was anything but.

Nerves started to jitter inside her. She took a mouthful of champagne to steady them.

Had she really done it? Got him interested in her? It was hard to believe when she hadn't made her move yet.

The bubbles beaded in her mouth and she swallowed hastily. She could feel the alcohol giving her a jolt. Uneasily, she wondered how much she had drunk all evening. She wasn't a heavy drinker but even small amounts could add up.

Fuck it, Tenten decided. She would need the alcohol boost to get her through tonight—through the week.

This was for Itachi, she reminded herself with a determined breath that lifted her breasts. She didn't need to question morality or why she was even here. A job was a job. Her mission was simple; blow Sasuke's brains out with whichever part of her body she saw fit, and then follow suit with a weapon of her choice from her arsenal.

And she was really looking forward to the latter. Itachi had gifted her a shiny new toy for her birthday and she was dying to test it out.

"Mr. Uchiha—"

His low-pitched, voice interrupted her as he corrected. "Sasuke."

Tenten pressed her lips together. He was being too much of gentleman for it to be sincere. His files had described him as anything but. This man had puppies terminated for merely peeing on his lawn.

"Sasuke," she forced herself to say his name. It came out like a soft, sultry husk.

"Tenten," he replied. The way he said her name was much more evocative than any way she had ever heard it pronounced before.

Many would argue that it was unwise to have disclosed her real name but it was too cliché to fake an alias. Tenten liked it when the last word her victims breathe before the end, was her name.

Sasuke took a mouthful of his own champagne. "Heaven," he mused, smirking.

He did have the most incredibly sensual mouth. For a moment she felt her gaze hang, unable to pull it away. Perhaps his mouth was even more sinuous than his brother's, some dark part of her taunted.

Tenten felt her body tense at the thought. With sheer effort of will she pulled her gaze away.

She felt that devastating weakness go through her whenever their eyes met. Felt that tightness in her breath, that quickening of her heart-rate. And she mustn't feel that. She just mustn't—not with anyone who wasn't Itachi.

And especially not with his brother.

Not with the target.

After a long while of glaring at nothing in particular her eyes snapped back to Sasuke. He had discarded his tuxedo jacket, his dress tie was unfastened, as was the top button of his shirt, and he was slipping the gold links from his cuffs.

She just stood there—watching him—feeling as if she were moving through a dream.

Then he was strolling towards her like that panther she had likened him to earlier. Only this time its leash had slipped.

Her heart hammered in great, pounding thuds. It was his eyes. She could see it in his eyes. See the gold flecks deep within. See the intent in them. It was the kind of intent that would make completing half her job so much easier, but it would complicate the other half. Make it near impossible.

He stopped in front of her. She could feel his presence, invading hers. He was looking down at her, out of those obsidian night-dark eyes—like Itachi's. She couldn't move—could only gaze, helpless, up at him.

All she could do was remember Itachi rising over her, his expression savage, dark, as he took possession of her. She had felt her body's hungry desire for his touch in places where she had never known such need before. Remnants of that hungry need still assailed her and for an instant, she felt herself spasm in need at the thought of Sasuke pressing inside her.

Dear God, she thought. What was wrong with her?

It was as if she had no power or control over herself any more.

The alcohol was setting in. Her body swayed—swayed towards him. She felt her hand reached out for support. For something to steady herself with.

Sasuke caught it. A swift, sudden movement that stilled her. His fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled her towards him with slow, inexorable strength. "You're the heaven that brings hell's heat," a tinge of irony coloured his voice.

An irony that seemed far too familiar to him, given that they've only just met.

He took away her champagne glass and set it aside—just like Itachi had, that night.

She blinked, "Huh?"

His pupils were like pinpricks, flared with gold. "Indulge me," he prompted softly.

Then, he slowly, very slowly, slid one long finger underneath the thin strap over her shoulder and gradually, little by little, drew it down over her arm.

Something flared in his eyes—something that was instantly, ruthlessly leashed. "Isn't that why you're here?" he asked, his voice soft and low, suspicious even.

His hand went to the other strap. Drawing it down her shoulder, slowly peeling down the bodice of her dress.

And still she didn't move. Not a muscle.

Itachi's image filled her vision, but she stood while Uchiha Sasuke bared her breasts, for his own delectation. He was unknowingly making the task at hand easier.

For one long, endless moment he just stood there, looking at her. Ridiculously she felt beautiful and desired. Itachi had never made her feel that way before. He had only ever made her feel sexual frustration and a terrible sense of inadequacy.

Tenten lowered her head and watched as Sasuke's hands cupped her breasts, caressed them, his fingers stroking across her nipples. Biting her lip, she fought to hold back the whimpers of pleasure that fell from her lips, and failed. It didn't matter, she thought. The more convincing her little charade was, the easier it would be to blindsight the young Uchiha.

His hands slid from her breasts to slide the zipper of the top half of her dress down. The bottom half of it followed soon after, pooling at her feet.

"Ita—oh God," she gasped when he pushed his hand inside the silk panties.

His haste shocked her. Itachi had been slow and deliberate when he undressed her.

Still, she felt feel evidence of her arousal coating Sasuke's fingers as the swollen folds of her core parted beneath his fingers. The sensations were exquisite, heated and rife with such longing that she wanted to beg.

Wanted to beg in the way she imagined he would beg for his life when she was through with him.

"Is that Jasmine you're wearing?" His breathing was heavy at her ear. A groan tore from his chest as his fingers met the swollen bud. A groan that mingled with her whimper of need.

Her lips parted, her eyes closing as she tried to force herself to move away from him. She needed to take control of the situation. He was seducing her and that was not how it should be.

His fingers moved again. They curled, two pressed together, and a heartbeat later they were thrusting inside her.

The pleasure was so extreme, so intense, a cry tore from her lips.

"Yes," Tenten swallowed tightly as his fingers continued to ease through the lush collection of heat between her thighs. She clamped them on his hand, her entire body tightening as ecstasy raced through her body over and over again. She didn't want it to stop. She wanted to feel this forever. She wanted to lock the sensations inside her and never let them go. "It's Jasmine."

Itachi had told her that particular scent drove Sasuke crazy—

The young Uchiha's head lowered, but he didn't kiss her lips. Not yet. Instead, his lips touched the skin just below her ear, where sensations were magnified, where heat built and spread along her nerve endings like wildfire.

—what he hadn't told her was how destructive foreplay was.

Sasuke's lips were warm velvet. His tongue, with its slight rasp was heated roughness against her skin. It had her knees weakening, and the hunger to feel more, to feel all of him, nearly overwhelmed her.

She went to his bed without a word. Only soft, aching moans that he stopped with his mouth. His lips covered hers, his tongue plunging deep. It swept into her mouth, a cooling relief against the fiery ache of hers. The force of it was almost violent.

Completely different from the way Itachi had kissed her—feather-like strokes of his tongue, as if he had been afraid he'd frighten her.

Sasuke on the other hand went in and claimed like a barbarian who had just discovered treasure on the enemy's territory. And that he had, Tenten thought in a moment of arrogance.

"I like Jasmine," he confided in a strange voice.

His lips and tongue drove her insane with a ravenous carnality that slammed into her body.

Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingers to his hard, heated abdomen, feeling it flex beneath her fingers as her own stomach clenched in hunger. She loved how readily he responded to her touch. He made no bones about it. She gave him pleasure just as well as he gave her. It felt like a novelty.

Sex with Itachi had felt so academic—with a teacher and a pupil. The transfer of knowledge from one person to the next with no apparent mutually sexual benefit.

But this was different.

Although they weren't well acquainted, Tenten fancied herself and Sasuke to be equals. Regardless of their clear difference in experience. She only hoped it wasn't showing.

When his mouth left hers to close over her straining, aching nipples, she cried out. And she kept at it as he trailed his lips along the taut contours of her belly then through the centre of her being.

Friction. Just the smallest bite of sandpapery roughness and it nearly sent her over the edge before his head lifted again.

"You taste like heaven," his voice rasped over her senses.

Reality fled. It was somewhere else. On another planet perhaps. Had it been on earth she might've been embarrassed or ashamed.

Lowering his head again, Tenten felt his lips plant an intimate kiss on the inside of her thighs. The kiss of death. Though the mission was progressing as it should, she knew she was failing—miserably.

Her rein on control had long since been handed over to Sasuke.

He sucked the sensitive bud just past his lips, flicked it with his tongue before releasing it. Soft, sucking kisses moved lower. His tongue emerged to tempt and tease, to taste with every little thrust into the folds of saturated flesh.

Tenten whimpered.

How could the human body feel so much? How could the sense of touch be so exquisite?

She couldn't believe the complete abandon in his expression, his pleasure as he ate her with decadent hunger. Looking down between her thighs, pleasure raced through her at the sight of his dark head. It tingled up her spine, through her nerve endings, sped through her bloodstream until every cell of her body felt flushed with it.

It was too much. She arched and fought to get closer, her hands gripping her knees as he pushed her legs farther apart and began to devour her with an intensity that hinted at his own desperation. It threw her over the edge.

It was an edge of complete release.

She was shaking, shuddering, aching and reaching for him. She watched as he rose to his feet, his hands gripping her shoulders.

He had his taste of her, devoured her until he destroyed her mind.

It was her turn. Itachi had told her to expect this.

Suddenly the heavy length of Sasuke was before her. With a tortured cry she leaned forward and let her tongue swipe over the head as he tried to pull her to her feet.

He seemed to freeze, as though that lightest touch held him suspended, locked him into place.

He tasted wild, like his kisses.

Tenten wrapped her hand as far around the base of him as her fingers would allow. There was still an impressive amount of flesh left uncircled. He was well endowed.

It must run in the family, she brooded sickly.

She licked him again, slow, her tongue curling around the thickly flared tip of pulsing flesh.

He growled at her. The sound rumbled from deep within his throat as his teeth clenched. His hips jerked, his chest rose and fell harshly as she slowly, so slowly allowed the hard length to sink into her mouth.

"Fuck," His voice was rough, his hips moving with short, controlled thrusts against her lips.

He filled her mouth, stretching her lips over it, pulsing against her tongue. She didn't have any practice at it but from the way he bared his teeth in a grimace of raw pleasure, she hadn't needed any.

When his body finally pressed her down against the mattress she felt its strength, its power. Her hands reveled in the taut, sculpted muscles of his back, his shoulders. Her thighs strained against the sinewy cords of his.

Against her belly she felt the long, hard shaft of his manhood.

She could end his life right here and now, Tenten thought as she writhed against him. In less than five seconds she could snap his neck and in another five she could be gone. Then there was always the option of using the poisoned hairpin still holding her hair together. And if she really wanted to get violent she could reach her hands around his neck and choke the living shit out of him. He was big but she was certain she could take him.

In more ways that one—if a pun had been intended.

It would be easy. A good clean kill. At no expense to her. Or her body.

But it wasn't to be, because it wasn't Itachi's wish.

Sasuke's tongue laved the swollen, aching peak of her nipple, sending flames shooting through her breast, making her fingers claw over his shoulders. From her throat tore soft, aching moans she could not suppress.

She writhed against him again. The hunger for his body mounted as the one for his death dissipated.

It didn't make sense. She wasn't supposed to like or even enjoy this. This was a job.

Work is supposed to be fun, a voice echoed from somewhere inside her head.

"For tonight. Just this one night, I'm not taking." His voice was consumed with lust—with a promise and a threat.

A threat that was both sensual and lethal in nature. _'Taking'_ it would seem, held double connotations.

Mission accomplished. Sasuke was already considering seeing her again. The fool—weak to the flesh. He walked right into her trap and she hadn't so much as lifted a finger.

Tenten smirked, she is was the one who wasn't _taking_ —taking his life—tonight.

"I'm giving. Watch me give," he panted roughly.

Her eyes dropped to her splayed thighs and widened as the head of him parted the slick lips of her.

"Oh God." She tilted her hips, opening herself further and watched as he sank into the blistering depths of her.

The torment was exquisite.

"Look how pretty." His thumbs parted the pink folds until she could feel the head of his erection piercing her.

Slow and deliberate descent, and completely unlike his brother.

Itachi had not been as controlled or as gentle as his kisses. The elder Uchiha had been rough. He took her in a series of deep, hard strokes that caused her pleasured pain. He had felt like a column of solid fire inside her that burnt through every last shred of innocence she possessed.

His hands, they had gripped her hips, almost bruising in their strength as he fucked her so hard and fast she swore he would batter his way into her womb.

He was like a ferocious wolf.

But if Itachi was a sadist where she was concerned, Tenten had been a masochist in her hunger for his dominance.

Interestingly enough, Sasuke was quite the opposite. Quite the cautious pup.

Tenten didn't know why she was holding any of this up for analysis when she would be slitting the brat's throat by the end of the week.

"You're tight," his eyes were glittering, his face sweat-dampened, his thick lashes in damp spikes as he glanced at her. "Delectably so. I don't suppose you make a habit out of doing this?"

Of course not, the Akatsuki wasn't running a brothel.

"Please," she was almost crying with the need. "Ita—God. Sasuke."

She was panting as he moved slowly, making her feel each inch of her tissues parting around the broad head of him. He was killing her. Stretching her by slow degrees, making her inner walls spasm and flex in rapturous greed as he worked himself deeper. Slowly.

"Tenten," he crooned, suddenly sliding into her to the hilt.

She bucked against him, strangling for breath as her body fought to adjust around him.

Gasping, Tenten stared up at the devilish intent on his handsome face, at the powerful line of his shoulders looming over her. He felt so massive inside her. So good.

She shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be enjoying it. It downgraded her as a woman and downplayed her as a professional.

But his eyes were so dark, so endlessly seductive. She closed her own, trying to concentrate on the sensation, trying to forget what she was doing and who she was doing it with. She wanted him to take her violently though, to slam his flesh as hard and deep inside her as possible. Like Itachi had.

But Sasuke wasn't Itachi and she was okay with that.

Indulge him, he had said.

It was he who was indulging her, Tenten thought wryly.

This way she got to be with Itachi in her head while a face quite similar to his, and the willing body of his younger brother sent her flying through ecstasy.

It really was like playing with your food before you ate it. And she was working up quite an appetite.

An appetite for the kill.

* * *

 **A/N: Have no fear, it doesn't get any more disturbing than Tenten's fucked up comparing/contrasting of Itachi and Sasuke ;) My baby is a mess, isn't she? *wipes teary eyes* Call me twisted but I was fucking dying with laughter the entire time I was writing this shit a** **nd I don't suppose it's something to laugh about (o.O)**

 **I know I said updates would be on Sundays but my weekends are unpredictable so here's another Friday update *cheers* Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated :)**


	4. Ricochet

_Please excuse the delayed update. I've been very ill. Shout out to Plasticroses79 for beta-ing this chapter for me. I'm in no condition to stare at my laptop screen for prolonged periods so it was nice to have an extra pair of eyes while editing. Thank you so much :)_

 _OoOo_

" **Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another."**

— **Arthur Conan Doyle**

Tenten awoke to a room filled with the mellow, soft shadows of a fading dawn. The heat of the day was emerging along with the sun. For now it was a mild, balmy warmth that was gentle on her skin. She lay cocooned in a relaxation of mind and body, just watching the sky turn lighter outside the window, the accompaniment of quiet traffic, soothing.

She could get used to waking up like this. The thought was there before she had time to deflect it, and it brought her abruptly from the bed.

At almost the same moment she heard Sasuke's car engine purr to life and drove off. Her heart fluttered and raced, and she made a sound of annoyance in her throat at her weakness.

She was grateful he was a busy man and was never around in the daytime.

It gave her precious respite time—without which, she knew, she would have cracked.

How many days had passed since she'd been staying here? She was losing count. It was coming up to a week, it must be. Or was it longer? She had tried not to count, tried not to think. Itachi would've said something by now if she had overstayed. But given that he instructed her to station herself in Sasuke's bed rather than a hotel—for reconnaissance purposes—she figured he had given her a grace period to complete the main mission.

The intelligence she gathered from snooping around during the days proved useful.

Sasuke didn't strike her as a careless person but oddly enough none of his computers were security protected. Even if they were, it would've been child's play to hack them, Tenten gloated. Deidara taught her well. However, Sasuke's negligence disconcerted her. It seemed almost deliberate, like he wanted anyone who went digging to find exactly what they were looking for. It didn't make any sense.

Twice, she was able to tip Itachi off about Orochimaru's movements so that necessary actions were taken by the Akatsuki to neutralize the threat. Oto lost several members during those encounters. Why would he make information like that so accessible when he knew that in the wrong hands it could prove lethal?

Then again, his house was heavily guarded. His arrogance might've led him to believe that no one could get pass his security in the first place. If Tenten were to be completely honest that was probably true. Orochimaru was near paranoid when it came to Sasuke's physical security. There was an armed man positioned in every nook and cranny of his massive yard. Suspicious bodies were ran through facial recognition by the guards at the gate.

Everything was so high-tech and formal. In fact, in order for her to have actually been allowed into the party Tenten had to pose as the date of one of the old geezers who was invited. That in itself was a piece of cake. All she had to do was promise some old, sexually deprived fool that she'd make it worthwhile if he made her his plus one and bingo—she was in.

She didn't quite catch his name. Not that it mattered when she would have no further use for him. He came with high security clearance which automatically exempted her from being searched and screened before being permitted inside.

Itachi must've also known about his brother's near impenetrable security. That was probably why he had her go undercover as the woman under Sasuke's covers. While there was no merit in it, being a mistress did have it's privileges. She could come and go as she liked—not that she left at all. Itachi thought it would raise more suspicion if she kept leaving and returning.

Yawning, Tenten reached beneath her pillow for the pistol that never left her side. Small, discreet, deadly and cold to the touch. Yet after a few seconds with her hand around it, the metal was ambient, feeling more like a part of her than a tool of death.

Her hands weren't quite as steady as they usually were when she lifted the gun and took a blank shot at an imaginary Sasuke making his way through the door.

She ignored the jolt her heart gave at the mental image of him with a bullet hole in his forehead. Fuck him, she inwardly growled. Her aim was a little rusty and she could use something to practice on. She had a reputation to maintain and that reputation guaranteed not only the satisfaction that came with a successful mission, but also Itachi.

She was ready.

I can do this, Tenten told herself, carefully laying the pistol beneath the mattress.

Sasuke hadn't been in the least bit interested in anything besides her nightly company, and that was good— _it was._ Romantic complications she could do without. He had only enquired what she did for a living and she went with secretary. Those were efficient enough. That was the type of killer she was.

Efficient.

But in actuality, instead of dispatching invoices and emails she dispatched people to whatever came in the afterlife. Sasuke didn't have to know that.

Ever since that mission three years ago when she had had to pose as the secretary of a social parasite, Danzō Shimura, it became her default response. His death hadn't been satisfying enough so she slaughtered all his subordinates in cold blood after tossing the old man off the roof of his twenty story office downtown, Konoha.

Konan had given her props for the consistency. Because believe it or not, she had told Tenten, consistency didn't hurt the credibility of one's forged professional when undercover. Lie until that life becomes your life. Her fake life of course.

Tenten was in the bathroom when she heard the sound of a motor bike outside followed by a ding she learned three days ago indicated that the newspaper had arrived.

She went on cleaning her teeth vigorously, washing the taste of Sasuke away. Slanting eyes fixed on her reflection. Smoky brown eyes looked back at her, deep set, with long dark lashes, her lips seemed lusher somehow. Her cheeks rosier.

She stared at herself.

She looked—

For lack of a better word.

—enamored.

It stole into her mind, shocking her. She tried to push it away, but it was no use. She went on staring.

And as she stared at herself she started to feel a tremor, deep inside her, as if something were stirring, had just awoken.

She pulled back. It was ridiculous.

This feeling that gripped her—her mind balked at the word 'love'—would diminish once she completed her mission.

Sex did not equate to love. And she sure as hell didn't love Sasuke. If anything she loved the sex. Nothing was wrong with that.

Every night spent in his arms was a night closer to getting into his brother's. It was Itachi whom she desired. So why—why did she want this to go on a little longer. Why did she want more? Why was her body a single living flame, one that burnt fiercer with each passing night?

Night after night she burnt like a flame in Sasuke's arms.

He had become like kerosene to her. Fuel that had got into her bloodstream and which she was now utterly, completely dependent on.

It was like poison. It was desire.

Abject, helpless desire.

Every evening when Sasuke returned from _running his father's business into the ground_ as Itachi had deemed it, Tenten felt her heart gave a leap. She tried to crush it, but it would not be crushed. Her breath would quicken in her lungs and she would feel a rush of pleasure—of anticipation.

But with Sasuke and her, it was just sex, she told herself every time he was with her. He couldn't keep his hands off her but, to be honest, she couldn't keep her hands off him either and the awareness that they had such a short time together had simply pushed the intensity to a whole new level.

He was with her every minute he was at home. Sometimes he took her to his bed immediately. He would walk up to her, take her hand and coolly usher her up the stairs. Her mission wasn't the only thing that kept her from protesting as she went with him.

They bickered daily, being both very strong-willed people. It was usually over something ridiculous, he didn't like that she wore her socks or her hair in twin buns in bed. Aside from that they didn't talk much. When they did though, conversation flowed easily. She knew he liked her. She made sure that he did. But aside from the wild bouts of sex that took place every time they got within touching distance, that was the height of it, she told herself staunchly.

And yet it had been a revelation—never had she understood how raw, how powerful, desire could be. Itachi might've taken her to a place she had never been but Sasuke had taken her to a place she had not known existed at all.

It was a place of passion and ecstasy, of wanting and needing, of sating and slaking, of giving and receiving—of mutuality. Reciprocation.

There was no peace in that place. Not during the day, when her restless body waited impatiently for Sasuke's return. No peace. Not even whilst he was around either. She still went to him then. Went to him and let him take her in a white, hot rush of desire.

There was no such thing as peace. There was only a driving hunger that was a desperate need for what only he had been able to give her. She knew only the brief, strange peace that came after, when their bodies lay spent and exhausted in each other's arms.

Like they were lovers.

But they weren't lovers. She knew that. Knew it deep within her soul. There was nothing between them. Neither knowledge nor intimacy. They were enemies. The hunter and the hunted. Day after day. Night after night.

Nothing but a predator and its prey.

A dull, crushing heaviness filled her as she rinsed her mouth and tied the belt of her wrap more tightly. After she retrieved the newspaper she went straight to the kitchen, yawning. She was up earlier than usual because she had been able to get an early night for once, surprisingly. Uchiha Sasuke might be a brat but sexually, he was high maintenance.

Last night however, after the first round he drifted off into a haunted slumber. All throughout the night he fought in his sleep. He twisted and turned, perspired and whimpered as if in the grips of some terrible nightmare. It was when he muttered Itachi's name that Tenten questioned the cause of the apparent bad blood between the brothers.

Opening the refrigerator, she took out a box of milk, poured some into a glass, switched off the percolator which was hitting its glass dome excitedly, slid a slice of bread into the toaster and sat down. Exactly how long had she been here? Her movements were beginning to feel like ritual deliberation.

She did this every morning since she arrived. Back home with Itachi, Tenten rarely woke up to such normalcy, if she did sleep at home at all.

They were constantly on the go because someone was always pissing Pein off. As members of the Akatsuki, it was their duty to wipe that person—whoever it was—out of existence. The beauty of it, she supposed, was in the spontaneity and the fact that they got to chose their own methods of execution.

But she really could get used to waking up like this. She could get used to routine. This routine. That earlier thought from nowhere came back again.

And even as it formed a terrible heaviness came in its wake.

When she was finished here—finished toying with Sasuke—what would she do?

Tenten had thought she would simply move on to the next mission. Had thought nothing else.

But now, with punishing clarity, she knew that something had changed. She could go back to her life as an Akatsuki but she could never go back to her life as a woman. As Tenten.

A shudder went through her, as if something unclean had touched her skin. Disgust flushed through her like acid—bitter, bitter self-disgust. Why should Itachi, or anyone for that matter, want her after this?

Suddenly that dream seemed a million miles away. In another universe.

She would never reach it. A prickling wash of tears burned below her lids and a flood of anguished grief gripped her for what wasn't to be. Suddenly, with a violence that shook her, Tenten hated everything about herself—her body, her personality, her inhibitions. How stupid she must've been to not see that if Itachi was capable of loving her the way she wanted then, he wouldn't have asked her to do something this demeaning.

She was trying not to think too much about Sasuke either. After all she would kill him and the affair would be over. That was not going to break her heart, she told herself firmly, but the hand in which she held her cup of milk trembled.

Hastily she set the cup down again. If she gave way to stupid feelings, started fancying that she was in love and all that nonsense she would be digging her own descent into despair by the time it ended. And no one else was allowed to have that much power over her. Itachi was enough.

Just as Sasuke didn't do relationships—the topic had popped up once while they were sex-wasted out of their minds—Tenten didn't do love.

Admittedly she was attached to him in some ways, she acknowledged grudgingly. He had invited her out to dinner with Orochimaru and his Oto cronies once, something she had not expected, having assumed he would be as keen as her to keep their involvement with each other under wraps.

She had told Sasuke she had nothing to wear but it was just an excuse to hide the fact that she didn't want Itachi to think she had lost sight of her objective. It was much wiser to stay under the radar, she reflected ruefully, having no desire to attract controversy within the camp or witness Pein's outrage. The mission had after all been kicked into gear without his approval.

He would not take kindly to Tenten potentially ruining her cover and exposing her connection to the Akatsuki. Sasuke was a guarded asset of Oto; no doubt Orochimaru's henchmen would eventually be pulling background information on her to ensure she wasn't an enemy spy.

It was only a matter of time.

Tenten brushed the thought aside. There were only a few hours of the affair to go and she was trying to handle the upcoming prospect of Sasuke's murder with logic and restraint rather than with the obsessive depth and despondency she felt. No, not that. It would shatter her composure.

Murder.

The word clanged in her head like a stone.

A bitter mockery filled her. Dear God. Mere days ago, when Itachi had assigned her this mission she had felt relief so profound it could've lifted her off the ground. It had been awhile since she exercised her trigger finger. And by _awhile_ she meant three weeks—since her last kill. That was equivalent of three months in the book of an Akatsuki. She was thrilled when Itachi presented her with the opportunity to spill blood and end the drought.

But now—now it tolled like a funeral bell. Filling her with dread. And there was an ache in her body that she could not extinguish. It was anguish and it filled her being.

Did Itachi really feel that strongly about his family's reputation to want Sasuke dead for getting their father's company mixed up with Orochimaru? If tainting the Uchiha name was what he was concerned about then he was a little late. Madara and Obito were names people were afraid to let slip off their tongues for obvious reasons.

Itachi wasn't exactly innocent either, so ordering a hit on his kid brother for such a reason did seem kind of petty.

Taking a sip of her milk, she casually flipped open the front page of the newspaper and glanced at it. As she took in the main headline her hand began to shake. The glass fell to the floor, shattering, sending a stream of milk seeping over her fluffy blue slippers.

"What?" she whispered huskily, shaking her head in an automatic, unconscious gesture of rejection. "That can't be right."

Feverishly she skimmed the story, her lips trembling as she read. It was the anniversary of the Uchiha Massacre. Though there were four known members of the family alive it still went on to list Sasuke as the lone survivor of that night—

Tenten frowned.

—because the next three were the masterminds behind the heinous crime.

There were small photographs of the three, but it was on the second picture that her eyes were riveted.

The colour had slowly drained from her face until she was as white as the wrapper she wore. Her toast popped up unheeded. Milk soaked the blue fur slippers.

Her lips were parted, murmuring a name.

When her burner phone rang she jumped violently, brushing a hand across her eyes. Her fingers came away wet. For a moment she sat quite still, taking a deep breath and then very slowly she picked it up.

"Agent Panda," her voice sounded rusty, as thought she had forgotten how to speak.

"It's Crow. Have you seen Oto's main newspaper yet?" Itachi's voice was hurried and anxious. "The Sound, it's called."

"Yes," she said dully.

There was a pause. "I know what you must be thinking," the accusation came sharply.

"I don't know what to think," Tenten said flatly. She really didn't. The cause of Sasuke's nightmares was becoming crystal clear now. "Is it true?"

A part of her wanted to believe Itachi must've had very good reasons for slaughtering his entire family. He was after all, Itachi. He didn't do things on impulse. Something of this nature shouldn't have come as a surprise, given her line of work. Killing criminals was one thing. But turning the mouth of one's gun on family was another.

"This must be quite a shock to you," he said uncomfortably.

"Yes," The admission was made huskily.

Fear swirled in paralyzing waves, fraying her courage, attacking her innermost soul, shaking her with a cyclone of devastating doubts. What did she actually know about Itachi? He'd chosen to take her under his wing at twelve years old. That was it. Fresh out of the boat from Konoha, she hadn't a clue what her future held when Itachi took over her life and gave it the purpose she'd wanted.

But now she felt hopelessly lost. She can't remember having ever doubted or feared him before, until now.

"I'm en route to Otogakure now. Meet me at Hotel Cobra at twenty one hours—"

21:00 hrs

"—with Sasuke's corpse. I'll explain everything then," there was a dangerous edge to his voice. A warning. A dark throb.

Her hand tightened around the cell phone. Before she had to chance to protest Itachi ended the call.

"What do I do?" Tenten whispered to herself, thrown into helpless confusion.

"Think fast." A voice came from the doorway.

Suddenly something pink spiraled through the air in her direction. She caught whatever it was without sparing it a glance. Instead she flicked a nervous glance to see Sasuke leaning against the archway with his arms folded across his chest.

"How long have you been there?" she felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her body. Had he overheard her conversation? She seemed to hang in some sort of suspended animation, her gaze fixed on him. "I thought you went to office," panic breaking through.

He moved away from the door and strolled over to the breakfast table. "Who was that on the phone?"

"Annoying sales people," she heard her voice growing shrill and poured herself another glass of milk to loosen her throat. "They just won't take no for an answer."

He draped his jacket on the back of the chair, undid his tie, slid it out from under his collar and dropped it over the jacket, each action performed with calm deliberation. There was no obvious evidence of barely repressed volcanic anger, yet the sense of electric vibrations that could connect at any moment hummed through the room.

"You can drop the act, you know," Sasuke drawled vehemently.

Her stomach cramped into knots. "The act?"

He gave her a wry look, recovered a pistol from his back, and aimed it at her head. "I know why you're here. Let's not drag this out."

She heard the words, but for one dissociated moment she did not understand what they meant. Then their meaning hit her with a sickening blow. Oh, God, he knew.

A painful flush clung to her skin. "I'm afraid I'm not following."

Sasuke laughed mirthlessly. "It was nice of Itachi to loan me his whore for a week."

Tenten's jaw dropped. Sickness drenched through her.

His words fell like beads of acid on her brain, burning through the initial shock of them and forcing her to seek some mitigation from their painful impact. "That's not what I am," she sputtered.

"Oh, I'm well aware that's not all that you are, Agent Panda," he ground out. "Had you been just a street woman hired for that specific purpose, killing you wouldn't have been half as satisfying."

Horror galvanized her. All along he knew what was going on. He knew but chose to use her as a convenient, handy, fast-food snack to stave off nightly starvation. She had eyed him up but he was the one who had made the move. He had sex with her, took his fill, slept it off—and now the pretence was stripping off.

She felt sick. Reeling. This wasn't the same Sasuke she had gone to bed with. This one was even more of a stranger.

He cocked the gun, pointed it right between her eyes. "I didn't know Itachi was this sentimental, making you wait until the anniversary of my parent's death to kill me." His voice was controlled. Very controlled when he spoke again, "I don't share his sentimentality but I suppose I could indulge him a little."

She stared at him wide-eyed. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're going to go to Hotel Cobra and do exactly what he sent you here to do to me," his voice was hard, terse, savage, reflecting the expression on his face. "He obviously trusts you so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge to seduce him into a false sense of security and then go in for the kill."

Summoning every ounce of calm, she asked, "What makes you think I'd do such a thing?"

In annoyance, he had aimed his weapon at a vase behind her and discharged it.

Tenten jolted.

"I wouldn't cross me if I were you," Sasuke cautioned grimly. His ebony gaze left her face and swept slowly down to the length of her body, then back up again.

A shiver feathered its way down her spine, and she had to enforce control against it becoming visible.

"You could end up like that woman in your hands," he drawled icily, indicating to the trail of red liquid on the floor.

The colour swirled in her mind, making her feel light while curiosity aroused in her mind. Her huge, brown eyes followed the line, almost forcefully, like it had a mind of its own some would say. It was when she felt liquid warmth trickling down her leg that tiny tremors shot through her.

Tenten fastened her eyes on her hands and her expressive features whitening with shock.

She was reeling, punch-drunk. Her mind had gone numb, completely numb. All she could feel was the horror ballooning inside.

There in her hands was the head of a woman with a mob of pink hair, stained and discoloured by blood. Her face was bruised and covered with great blotches—the once lively skin now, dull and gray.

Her green eyes were wide opened and staring off into space but her mouth was frozen on a gape—a soundless scream. The flesh was still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on her waxy skin. She smelled like a recently slaughtered animal. Her esophagus and arteries stuck out like corrugated rubber tubings. They tickled Tenten's palm. Dark scarlet fluid ran down her arms until they looked like those abattoir worker.

"What the fuck?" The words exploded from her lips as she dropped the decapitated head.

It rolled towards him and he kicked it like an enthused soccer striker.

Ruthless fucker, no wonder Itachi wanted him dead.

"Perhaps I went a little overboard because I didn't like her," Sasuke confided pitilessly. "Your exceptional expertise made you tolerable enough," his eyes washed over her suddenly, and the expression in them made her gorge rise.

The silence that followed almost made her scream, then with cruel deliberation he closed the distance between them and kissed her—a single hard kiss that brought tears to her eyes, and she tasted blood where he had heartlessly sunk his teeth into the inner tissue.

"But I hate Itachi more than I love the company of a woman." Then his eyes narrowed fractionally, cutting like a scalpel into her. "I'll grant you one last chance though—to be with him before you have to kill him."

Her nails clenched into her palms, digging painfully.

"That way you'll scream the right name in bed for a change," his voice was hard.

As hard as stone.

Tenten swallowed.

Oops.

* * *

 **A/N: I know I said "Four Parts" in the beginning but after I revised my original fourth chapter, I realized that it didn't quite fill in the blanks. I had to make some changes. So, there shall be a fifth chapter to conclude and clear things up. Unfortunately my initial buzz for this shit is wearing off. Sigh. Don't be surprised if I put off updating in a week's time. I'm afraid I was a little too excited to post this story lol. Anyway, thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated.**

 **Thanks to those of you who have read, reviewed, followed or fav'ed this ;)**


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